


An Unsleeping Past

by LateStarter58



Series: The Companions [4]
Category: The Night Manager - Fandom, jonathan pine - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, F/M, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: The Companions are capable of love, but Jonathan Pine doesn't believe in all that...





	An Unsleeping Past

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Under the greenwood tree"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726259) by [missdibley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley). 



> This was originally a birthday gift for a dear friend, and party inspired by Miss Dibley's Under the Greenwood Tree.

Jonathan had never been all that keen on weddings. Not even his own, vague memories of which had been implanted into his base programming, was recalled with pleasure. His brief and disastrous marriage only served to convince him that such events were meaningless ritual. It seemed to him that attendees were either grumpy, like he was, tearily sentimental, or ridiculously flirty, like Stacker **_Bloody_** Pentecostwas being at that very moment, with Miriam. Fists clenched against the seams of his dress trousers, he swallowed hard and turned away from the sight that was bothering him so much. Was it the hand kissing, or was it her answering blush that was making his stomach churn?

“Perhaps I should have asked for a dress military uniform, from the old days,” he muttered to himself as he walked away from Adam’s tinkling guitar and the chatter and laughter of the other guests. He kept walking, eventually finding himself back near his quarters. Surprised at his own distraction, which seemed to have led him to take a familiar path with no recollection of the journey, he quickly returned to the orchard and re-joined the festivities.

Even so, he stayed on the edge of things, observing in his accustomed silent way. Occasionally, he stepped over to help the servers when they were overwhelmed by guests needing drinks, and once or twice he took a tray of the delicious little sweet canapés Julie had prepared and glided through the loose groups of happy revellers, charming the women by unleashing his practiced expression: his ‘Smile of Gracious Welcome’, the one he switched on when he felt dreadful but was obliged to put on the usual show of professional happiness. 

Miriam was doing some observing of her own. The crowd had begun to thin out a little as people drifted back to their own places to put the children or themselves to bed. Even when the party was at its height, it had not escaped her notice that Jonathan was not being a guest but instead acting as an informal supervisor to the waiting staff. She guessed that, for some reason, he was uncomfortable with the situation and made a mental note to call him in for a chat the next day. Julie usually debriefed him, but she was going to have a few days off now, and anyway, soon she would be rather busy with her own bit of debriefing. The Colony Medical Director smiled at the thought: there was never a better set of prospective parents than Mr and Mrs Edward Knighton.

Just before he decided to leave, Jonathan spotted Miriam, standing alone as he was, across the lawn. Her beautiful face was sparkling with good cheer. He felt the corners of his own mouth turning up to mirror her expression, and despite his puzzlement, he couldn’t seem to stop it.

*****

It was early evening and the planet below Orbital 4 was dark when there was a discreet tap on the door of Miriam’s office. She smiled: only one person would knock rather than use the panel.

“Come in, Jonathan.”

The door opened as silently as usual, thanks to its sophisticated hydraulics and the electronic systems that someone, probably Hannah, had filched from somewhere and the clever colony techs had replicated. The Head of the Medical Centre reflected briefly on how much of what they used daily had been salvaged from the poor ravaged Earth, including everything that went into making the magnificent creature that stood before her.

It was early ‘summer’ on O4. It had long since been recognised that humans did better if there were some sense of the passing year, even in a hermetically sealed environment. They had no winter, but the middle of the calendar year was noticeably warmer than the rest, and Jonathan Pine had dressed accordingly. He was wearing a pale blue chambray shirt and light khaki cargo trousers. No socks sullied his golden ankles, which disappeared into white canvas slip-ons. He cleared his throat. “You asked me to come for a chat, Doctor Miriam?”

His eyes flicked to the picture she had been adjusting as he came in. He had never noticed just how many frames decorated the walls before, but he had not been in this office for some time, not since his early weeks of activity. There were tens of pictures and other things in frames, covering two sides of the large room. Some were photographs, others seemed to be reproductions of art, and a few appeared to be framed documents. Miriam turned back towards her desk and indicated the chair in front of it. As usual, Jonathan waited until she had sat down before he joined her.

“Yes, thank you very much for coming.” She looked at his serious face, his careful eyes watchful as usual, his thin lips pulled into a tight line. “It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you. I just noticed…” Jonathan’s attention seemed to have wandered. She followed his gaze and saw he was staring at her Medical Degree, framed in the old-fashioned style she loved, and hanging low on the wall to her right. His eyes were wide, and she realised he was battling some emotion. “What is it, Jonathan?” Her voice was softer, gentle.

His voice was tighter than ever, and his mouth barely opened as he spoke: “Your name.”

“Miriam Sanchez De La Serna. It’s Spanish. My family were Spanish… What about it?” He seemed unable to say anything more, and just shook his head slightly. “Jonathan, what’s wrong?” She got out of her chair and walked around to put her hands on his arm and shoulder. Tears were falling down his cheeks and he was trembling.

“Your _middle_ name,” he managed.

“Samira, yes, my mother had a close friend who was Arab, so she chose Arabic names for… _OH_!”

Jonathan’s head tilted upwards and he looked deeply into Miriam’s beautiful, kind eyes. His hand, still shaking, reached up and caressed her soft cheek, the long fingers stroking and cupping. His eyes were heavily lidded. “Samira,” he whispered.

Since the beginning of the Companion Programme, Miriam had struggled with the ethics of her own participation in it. Not professionally, that was simple, uncomplicated and morally clear. No, rather with whether or not, given her position and her role in ‘testing’ the Companions before they began their operational ‘lives’, she should, as it were, _partake herself._ It was easier with the first three, since they were, immediately, spoken for. But some of the newer ones, and especially Pine, made her stomach tingle and unsettled her. She had made a few dates, but not with the ones she was most attracted to; that had felt, well, _wrong._ She had avoided Jonathan because she wanted him. She wanted him a great deal. And that could only lead to heartache.

Of course, that was before it became apparent that even the Companions without the imprinting algorithm could, indeed, fall in love.

When she remembered that special day, Miriam could never say for sure if there was a moment when she could have pulled back, or stopped what was happening, because there seemed to be no time – not even a split-second - between his dark voice murmuring her name as if in prayer and their lips meeting… And no more time between then and his powerful arms pulling her body against his, and his large hands tangling in her thick, reddish-brown hair…

******

The next day was a busy one, with a mother-and-baby clinic in the morning and her regular meeting with the governing Council after lunch. Miriam found her mind wandering as she made her way up the station to the conference room where the rest of the Executive Group were convening. She was going to have to tell them that yet another Companion had done what was, apparently, inevitable, and fallen in love. A warm blush began to rise up her neck as she recalled the way Jonathan had kissed her, and the things he had whispered in her ear.

Miriam Sanchez was no fool. She had seen Jonathan looking at her, through examination room doorways, or across the lobby of the Medical Centre. Their eyes had met a few times at social events as well, but he had never approached her. His intensity was alluring, but he had remained, like the character on which he was based, an enigma. He seemed to be trying to hide his feelings, and in some ways she was grateful for that. Her position as the leader of the medical staff made her hold back, despite the overwhelming desire she felt for him, and the uncertainty about his interest in her helped her to resist.

But seeing her name, her _middle_ name, last night had breached whatever barrier he had put up, and he told her, in whispered, breathless snatches between passionate kisses, precisely how he felt about her. The blush reached her cheeks as she recalled his words:

_“I admired you from the first moment I saw you, Miriam. There was something about you, something I couldn’t let go of, something magnetic…”_

_“You are so kind, so beautiful, so… so sexy and clever and compassionate…”_

_“I’ve wanted to touch you so badly sometimes, and then I had to go and be with someone else and it was so… so very…”_

The lift stopped and gently discharged her on the top floor before she could finish the memory of their embraces. They had not made love. Not yet. She had wanted to do things correctly, and follow the now formalised procedure put in place for these situations… Miriam had guided a few people through it, but this was different. Her stomach was a mass of fluttering birds – why hadn’t she confided in anyone? Cate, or Julie, somebody who could have listened and understood? The doors to the room were opening, and there was nothing for it but to go in, and, when the chance presented itself, confess that thanks to her, Orbital 4 was losing another Companion from active duty.

********

It was fully dark when they came back to themselves, on Miriam’s bed, which she had chosen to have by the window in her quarters. Starlight was all there was to illuminate the room and their naked bodies lying together in a loving embrace.

“Oh my, I am for it now, Jonathan.”

“What do you mean, Mimi?” He pulled her a bit more securely onto his chest, and allowed one hand to tease the skin at the base of her back, at the spot where the curve of her bottom began. He hadn’t felt happier or more comfortable in his life.

“The Council weren’t exactly _ecstatically_ happy to hear another Companion needs to leave the programme.”

He laughed heartily - a sound no one had ever heard on Orbital 4 – and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “Your colleagues weren’t angry with you, surely?” Jonathan considered the ruling Council: Miriam herself; Amanda, the chairperson and the most reasonable of women; Mary, the perennially cheerful and pragmatic Security Chief; Janet, Head of Science and a genius, in his view, and Charlotte, who headed the vital administrative service and effectively ran the station: none of these women, who had replaced the kind and compassionate Claire, struck him as unfair or judgemental.

“No, but it’s all more expense, or at least, lost income. There are more Companions being grown, and new models developed, but it’s still not easy to source all the raw materials, and the code takes time.” She sighed, remembering the emotions in the room as she told her tale. She had felt the support and love of her friends, and she knew they accepted it as inevitable that in time, all the Companions might find a special ‘someone’ and settle down in a monogamous relationship. “I don’t think any of us expected it to start happening so soon, or so _much,_ Jonathan.” She lifted her head to look at him, her chin against the warm, hard flesh of his shoulder. He seemed utterly human to her: a flawed, but beautiful, real man. The man she loved.

“You know, I have an idea that might save time, at least.”

Her eyebrows rose sceptically. “Oh yes?”

“They should make an _Andrew Birch_ , or better yet, a _Thomas Quince_ or _Jack Linden._ ”

Miriam swatted playfully at him, but he was much too fast for her, and pulled her into him for another kiss, which deepened rapidly. Jonathan had not fully grasped what the swirl of emotions that Miriam caused in him really meant, until he read that name on her degree. The connection, the longing she inspired in him made sense in that moment, and what had held him in check, the discipline he had employed was gone. His accustomed obedience threw up its hands and left the building. _Mimi,_ he called her, aloud now; his precious jewel. And now, as he manoeuvred her onto him, both of them sighing in deep pleasure as they were joined once again, he knew it was, and had always been, love.

******

In the past four months, Jonathan Pine’s opinion of weddings had changed somewhat. He stood, dressed in the smartest of uniforms and surrounded by the gold and amber of the autumnal orchard, his friend Magnus, as smart as he in his morning suit, at his side. Turning his head a little he could see his new boss, Mary, herself decked out in dark blue and gold-buttoned finery, and the eerily similar faces of a dozen current and former Companions with their partners or guests, all standing at the sound of the Haydn-Brahms chorale that was playing. He straightened his back and came to attention. He had no need to employ his familiar professional reserve, the ‘smile of apologetic self-protection’. He was grinning from ear to ear, and tears of happiness filled his vision. Magnus nudged him and whispered.

“She looks stunning, Jon. Just gorgeous.”

He was almost afraid to look, still occasionally disbelieving in his own good fortune, but finally he called upon his reserves of courage and turned his head to the left. Nell Monmouth and her little sister Katherine were walking towards him, hand in hand, the older princess in a dress of shimmering yellow, the two-year-old tomboy – at her own stubborn insistence - in a pageboy outfit of white shirt and burgundy breeches. They were both scattering red, amber and golden brown petals over the grass with gay abandon. He lifted his gaze slowly and saw their mother and Gloria in dresses a shade or two deeper than Nell’s, their rich dark hair piled artfully on their heads with the flowers of autumn woven into the strands.

Behind them he could see Loki’s head, and he knew that the demi-god had the bride – _his bride_ – on his arm, but she was hidden from his view. He had a sudden, appalling feeling of panic. She wasn’t coming; she’d changed her mind, _something bad had happened because good things don’t happen to Jonathan Pine…_ He turned away, his eyes blazing with grief and fear, but was met with the calm face of Charlotte, who was standing at the front of the aisle, waiting to officiate.

“Jonathan,” she said quietly, and nodded at him.

He turned his head again, even more slowly, almost reluctantly and there she was, her arm through the dark green and black of Loki’s best armour, her small, pale hand resting on the gold of his vambrace. Her dress was a rich toffee silk, a colour that made her hair, garlanded as it was with chrysanthemums, glow like liquid caramel and her face even lovelier than he remembered. He thought his heart would burst as he stepped out and took his place beside her. The music died away and Charlotte cleared her throat.

Jonathan Pine decided he did like weddings, after all.


End file.
